


your joy is my low

by humanveil



Category: Happy! (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Hate Sex, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: She used to think about hitting her—had ached for a release to her anger, even if it was misguided. Even if the person she was truly angry at was Nick. Was herself. She used to imagine the relief it would bring.She’s sure what she feels now is as close to her imagined catharsis as she’s ever going to get.





	your joy is my low

**Author's Note:**

> drabble prompt: happy, hurt, hate. it ended up being longer than a drabble, but whatever. enjoy?

New York is a big city. A _populated_ city. They shouldn’t run into each other but they do, and once it starts, it doesn’t seem to stop.

The first time, Amanda only catches a glimpse. A fleeting image of Meredith at the other end of the bar. It’s as she’s leaving—her date’s arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders, his voice warm, smooth, his smile wide. He’s looking at her with something gentle, something fond, and it’s enough for her to ignore the way her stomach drops until she’s able to excuse herself and go home to her daughter.

The second, it’s in the checkout line at a chemist, the two of them pressed uncomfortably close together as they wait for the queue to dwindle. Meredith speaks first: a tight-lipped greeting, quick and quiet and awkward. Amanda can tell immediately that she regrets it; thinks maybe it would’ve been easier to say nothing at all and stand in a tension-filled silence than it is to exchange small talk in that tight, heated way. That way it is when there’s _history_ _._

It’s a sentiment that’s shared. They both leave as soon as it’s a viable option.

It’s a grocery store, after that. A peek of her on the sidewalk while stuck in traffic. A series on run-ins, spanning months. Driving her mad.  

When it comes to a head, it’s the bar again. Only there’s something different, this time. This time, Amanda is more than a little tipsy; can tell that Meredith is, too. This time, when Meredith’s familiar figure brushes past her for the third time, Amanda follows. Downs the rest of her drink and stands. Walks on unsteady feet until she reaches her destination.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do until she does it.

The bathroom is small, dingy. It holds two little, dirty stalls, one empty and the other occupied. She walks in as Meredith is walking out, and it’s easy: a well-timed twist, one hand on Meredith’s arm, the other flat against the wall. Closing her in. Keeping her there. 

Meredith looks at her, and there’s surprise, but there’s something else, too. She opens her mouth, and Amanda’s sure there’s some smartass remark sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Makes sure that she doesn’t.

She leans forward, and the kiss is harsh. All teeth and tongue. Not exactly _enjoyable._ She used to think about hitting her—had ached for a release to her anger, even if it was misguided. Even if the person she was truly angry at was Nick. Was herself. She used to imagine the relief it would bring.

She’s sure what she feels now is as close to her imagined catharsis as she’s ever going to get.

Her hand tightens on Meredith’s arm, her nails digging in hard enough to hurt. She can’t help but think: _what_ _kind_ _of_ _fucked_ _up_ _situation_ _have_ _I_ _got_ _myself_ _in_ _?_

She barely remembers when things were normal. Thinks, _maybe they never were._

They pull apart, breath hot and heavy, loud with their close proximity. Amanda doesn’t know what she expected, but a smirk on Meredith’s face isn’t it.  

It gets under her skin. Sets a fire in her stomach. She pushes back: harder this time, almost desperate. Meredith hits the wall again but she isn’t helpless, isn’t _compliant._ She gives as good as she gets and it makes it all the more rewarding.

There’s no time for tenderness, even if she wanted it. Amanda slips a hand beneath Meredith’s coat, pulls at the waistline of her trousers with a repressed sort of aggression, and it’s been a long time—been since before she was married—but it comes naturally. If a little messy.

Two fingers rub against Meredith’s clit: quick paced, unrelenting. She squirms, and Amanda slides her hand downward, feels the wetness gathering there and shuts her eyes. Breathes against Merry’s cheek, the exhale of air almost akin to a laugh. She hooks her fingers in Meredith’s cunt and kisses her, holds her bottom lip between her teeth and adds pressure. Thinks, _Is_ _this_ _how_ _he_ _fucked_ _you_ _?_ and then says it out loud, words murmured against skin; barely discernible.

The words, they don’t belong in her mouth. Don’t _sound_ like her. And yet there they are. Meredith’s nails dig into the back of her neck as her body bucks up, pulls her closer and bites back, and Amanda groans. Doubles her efforts.

It’s quick. Hurried. Ends with Meredith’s body shuddering beneath her own, head thrown back and neck exposed. Amanda fucks her through it, works her hand in a steady rhythm until she can feel Meredith’s legs start to shake. Until Meredith nudges her back and Amanda lets her hand slip away. Steps back.

They stare at each other. Catch their breath. They don’t speak, but then, Amanda thinks, what is there to say?

She looks away first. Drops her gaze and turns to the singular sink that sits along the wall. Runs the water and doesn’t look at herself in the mirror.

“What about you?” Meredith says, and it’s still a little breathy. There’s a hint of that smirk again; barely, but there. Amanda shakes her head. Sighs.

She’s gone before her hands are dry.


End file.
